


Two Lives Too Many

by ConstantCacoethes (orphan_account)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angst, Canon Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-22 07:42:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13162413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/ConstantCacoethes
Summary: Humanity got Wall Maria. Humanity got the colossal titan. Humanity got hope.The nine survivors of the Battle of Shiganshina still feel nothing but loss.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Keep in mind that while this is EreRi-centric, there is some explicit LeviHan at the beginning of this chapter. If you don't like it, you can skip over it, though I do believe it is essential to character development.
> 
> With that said, neither Levi nor Hanji have romantic feelings for each other. They are just friends, and will not become anything more.
> 
> Warning: Implied panic attack

The Survey Corps returns from their expedition at dawn. 

It's odd how they're greeted; the city below them cheers, celebrates, never bothering to take a glance at the remaining soldiers. Not right away. They don't immediately notice that more than one hundred men have failed to make it back, for the reclamation of Wall Maria is a thing to be excited about, no matter the sacrifice. 

The surviving nine don't see it that way. 

They're each carrying their own burdens—have been, for a while, the least of them belonging to Floch—but they've all come back more jaded than they were before, and it shows. 

They don't stay around to celebrate. Jean, the only one with family in Trost, doesn't bother to visit them. How could he confront his mother in a condition like this? 

Connie flees with Sasha to the infirmary, and Armin stays behind to keep watch on Eren and Mikasa during their punishment. That leaves Floch, Levi, Hanji, and Jean, who all head to where they're staying. 

One good thing that came out of the victory is the luxury hotel. Each soldier has their own room—much to Floch's joy—and a private shower. Levi doesn't bother to observe whether or not the rest are going to their own rooms, but he can imagine Jean and Floch will not be seeking solace in each other. 

He, on the other hand, finds himself standing outside Hanji's room. 

For the first time in what feels like forever, Levi actually knocks. He doesn’t know why he does it—maybe it's because of the somber mood, or Hanji's new rank—but it feels wrong not to do so. Immediately, though, he's greeted by her tired figure, before she lets him in without a word. 

He doesn't hesitate to start shedding his clothes. He steps out of his boots, hangs his jacket on the coat rack, and folds his cravat onto the dresser. He and Hanji strip in silence; the somber mood is suffocating but manageable, and they don't bother trying to lift it. 

Hanji finishes removing her belts before Levi, unsurprisingly—after all, she never bothers to keep them untangled—and she sits on the edge of the bed while Levi takes off his shirt. 

Once he's in nothing but his undershirt and uniform pants, he steps away from the wall and towards Hanji. "Is it alright if I use your shower?" He asks, his tone more flat than usual, the unnatural lack of emotion far more frightening than Hanji would like to admit. So, instead of teasing him, she just nods, and watches as he heads towards the restroom. 

It's not unusual for them to seek each other out after an expedition. Being alone with your thoughts is the last thing a grieving soldier needs, after all. And though Levi doesn't use her bath after every mission, he's done it before, and it's no longer something she's surprised by. 

Once Hanji hears the water start, she heads in herself. She's not surprised to see Levi hasn't laid a towel out, nor that his clothes are in a pile on the floor. She folds them, just so he doesn't throw a fit, and tosses a towel on the toilet before going back into her room. 

Hanji busies herself with paperwork while she waits for Levi to finish. He's usually a quick bather—two or three minutes at the most—but after expeditions, he takes a while longer. And although writing letters to the families of the fallen isn't great for her mental health, it needs to be done. And she's not about to shove this work onto the others. 

They're already hurting enough as it is. 

Hanji is on the twelfth when she realizes Levi has yet to come out. He's been in there for a good hour, which isn't a good sign; he's usually too worried about wasting water—a habit Hanji assumes is from the underground—to stay in for that long. She sets aside her work to enter the bathroom once again, trying and failing to clean her glasses of the fog. 

"Levi?" She says, poking her head around the shower door. What she finds is Levi curled into himself, his ears covered by his palms; Hanji sees a gash on his back that's recent and no doubt needs stitches, and she frowns at the lack of concern Levi seems to be showing for himself. 

She says his name again, and when he doesn't respond, starts undressing. The cut no doubt needs washed and covered, but Hanji figures that coaxing Levi out of the shower will be a task in itself; so, instead of dragging out the first-aid kit right away, she steps in and sits behind Levi. 

She pulls him in between her legs before settling her back against the wall, underneath the shower knob facing the stream. She stills, waiting to see if Levi will react, only to once again find him unresponsive. He's shaking, that much she can tell; she runs her fingers through his hair, finding it tangled and unwashed, and she glances at the soaps to find them unopened. It's not the first time she's seen him like this—there aren't many first-times when you've survived so much together—but it's still disconcerting, and it makes her gut twist. 

"Levi," she whispers against his head, "Levi. It's okay. You've got to wash now, okay?" 

This time, he moves his hands from over his ears to her thighs, digging his fingernails in with desperation Hanji once never thought him capable of. "Hanji," he croaks, hunching forward, and she wonders just how close to tears he is. "Hanji." 

"Hey, it's alright," she says, pulling him up against her chest. "It's okay. I got you. You're alright." 

He chokes on a sob, eyes dry but aching to cry; so, Hanji holds him tighter, and whispers empty consolations into his hair. 

It doesn't take long for Levi to stand up, the motion wobbly but more like him. After that, he reaches for the soap, popping the bottle open; his movements aren't jittery anymore, and as calculated and sure as usual, and Hanji's chest aches at how accustomed he is to hiding his pain. 

She stands behind him as he lathers his hair, her finger tracing below the gash on his back. He shivers, turns, and then she's washing his body for him. 

Once his hair is conditioned and combed through, he turns around to return the favor. He's careful of her injured eye, choosing not to point out that it's still wrapped, and then she's lacing her arms around him. They stand like that underneath the stream, Levi limp in her arms, before he finally returns the embrace. 

"You know," Hanji says, her voice laced with emotion, "It's weird not having Moblit monitoring my every move. I knew he wasn't invincible, but..." She laughs. 

Levi hums. "It's hard not to think of them like that." 

Hanji holds him tighter. "Yea." 

This time, instead of running her finger below his cut, she traces it. Levi's shudder is a bit more prominent now; his breath hitches, and he digs his fingernails into her back. She doesn't bother to ask about the wound; he knows that she doesn't approve of leaving it unattended, and that's enough. So, instead of chastising him, she uses her other hand to scratch lines into his back while she reaches between them. 

Her hands aren't gentle when they touch him. They squeeze the base of his dick roughly, scraping a fingernail up the shaft, while Hanji moves them into their original position against the wall. Once the two are settled, Levi's back warm against her chest, she squeezes him again while biting into his shoulder. 

"Ah..." He groans, digging his fingers into Hanji's bicep. She nips at his ear, and he can't help letting out another soft moan; then a hickey's being sucked into his shoulder blade, and he bucks his hips, hunching forward and pulling Hanji with him. 

"Is that good?" She asks, her voice soft and breathy against his ear. "Or do you want something else?" 

Levi bites his lips, trying and failing to still his hips. Hanji doesn't mind; she whispers praises into his ear and draws blood from his skin, her movements steady and practiced. "This is..." He groans, grabbing her arms. "This is good." 

"Good," she says, kissing his nape. "Good." 

She doesn't bother teasing; keeps the rhythm brutal while he fucks himself into her hand, whimpering against his will while he doubles over in pleasure. His upper back is littered with marks when he starts giving in, Hanji sinking her teeth into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood as he lets out a groan. 

"You going to come?" She asks, and it's an honest question, but her breath is hot and Levi's sensitive and he lets out a moan. "Do you want to come now?" 

"No," he croaks out, bucking into her hand. "No—oh God—not yet." 

"Quiet," she whispers into his hair, squeezing the base of his cock. "It's okay. Not yet. It's okay." 

Levi lets out a choked moan; it's frustrating, being denied release, even if he asked for it. But then Hanji's pulling them out of the shower, drying Levi as he struggles to stay upright, and pretty soon he finds himself face-up on the bed. 

Hanji spreads his legs before sitting between them, her left hand on his thigh and her right working his cock. It's gentle this time; her movements are spread out, slow, and so light it's almost uncomfortable, giving Levi the time he needs to calm down without losing his arousal. 

When he gets the strength to open his eyes, Hanji starts using her fingernails again. His leg twitches at the pinching sensation, his mouth falling open; and then Hanji's talking, asking questions that are just as soothing as they are annoying. 

"Levi," she starts, "How far do you want to go?" 

He doesn't respond; doesn't want to, because it's embarrassing, and focuses on thrusting into her hand. He wants it harder; he needs  _something_ , damn it, and she's not letting him have it. 

"Levi," Hanji repeats, her voice stern. She tightens her hand around the base of his cock, and Levi growls. "You don't have to beg. Just tell me what you want." 

He stills at that, trying to catch his breath while processing her request. Levi knows he looks absolutely debauched; his cock is aching and heavy between his thighs, and he's sweating from the exertion. He stops flushing—realizes Hanji's asking so that she doesn't take it too far, not because she wants to tease him—so he wills himself to take a deep breath and gets to talking. 

"I want you to make me cry." 

That's all she needs. Hanji starts moving again, her hand tighter and pace quicker, and Levi clenches his teeth. His hands scramble at the bedsheets, his toes curling; and then Hanji pinches one of his nipples, and he lets out and embarrassing yelp. The glare he sends her is weak—overrun by lust and desperation—but Hanji can't bring herself to find it funny, because she knows exactly why Levi asked for this. 

He wants to forget. 

But most of all, he wants to cry. 

She's seen him cry before—after particularly stressful missions when he comes to her with this very request—but otherwise, he seems almost completely numb to pain. When he breaks down, he never cries; just hits things, hurts whoever he can, even if it ends up being himself. The only time she's seen Levi cry is when she forces it out of him. 

Just like this. 

She brings him to the edge again before stopping, moving her hands to claw at his chest. He grits his teeth as she scratches at the skin; he releases a broken moan when it breaks, and Hanji barely hides her wince.  

The truth is, Hanji's never been a huge fan of inflicting pain on others. Not unless they deserve it. It was one thing to torture Sannes; she'd be lying if she said it wasn't morbidly satisfying, but she in no way received sexual pleasure from it. She understands what Levi needs, though—after all, she sometimes needs it, too—but the feeling of skin and blood beneath her fingernails is more uncomfortable than anything else. 

But she doesn't stop. She brings him to the edge again, and again, littering his chest and thighs with marks all the while. When she digs her nails into his cock once again, he breaks, tears welling up in his eyes as he lets out a pained whine. 

"Hanji," he pants, bucking into her fist. "Hanji, please let me come." 

She gives in, one hand working his cock while the other scratches his chest, and Levi whines. His thrusts become erratic before he's coming, tears flowing all the while, his groans hoarse and broken. She wipes her hand on his chest while Levi catches his breath, his fingers clutching at the sheets while he sobs. 

When he comes down from his high he opens one eye, before looking at his come-covered chest and grimacing. Hanji thinks she'd laugh were the situation less sad. 

"I'm a mess," comes Levi's garbled voice, "And I need a shower." 

Hanji stands, stepping towards the dresser. "Okay." 

Levi showers a second time while she puts on pajamas, rewrapping her eye while she's alone. She doesn't hesitate to lie down, the layers of blankets bringing heat and comfort, as she tries to drown out her anxious thoughts. 

She hears more than sees the bathroom door open—she can thank her lack of glasses for that—and then she hears the ruffling of clothes, before Levi's leaving without so much as a goodbye. 

She doesn't take it personally. 

 

The next day, Levi and Hanji find themselves outside Eren's and Mikasa's cells. Armin is, surprisingly, awake but not conversing with Mikasa, while Eren is in what looks like a nightmare-ridden sleep. 

"Armin," Hanji says in greeting, "How are things?" 

Levi turns to peer into Eren's cell, listening to their conversation. The boy's eyebrows are furrowed, his skin covered in a thin sheet of sweat, the oil lamp on his desk nearly burned out. "Not so good," Armin says, a frown in his voice. "Eren's confirmed some more of his father's notes, though." 

"I see," Hanji replies, "Any in particular?"

Levi watches as Eren's face contorts, more sweat dripping from his forehead, and turns to face Armin. "Pretty much all of them," he answers. 

Levi glances at the filled tray on the floor in front of Mikasa, and isn't surprised to see Hanji suppressing a frown. 

Neither of them has a response. 

Hanji manages to coax Armin out of the dungeon and to the hotel, Levi offering to stay behind on guard. Instead of taking the seat Armin was previously in, he leans against the wall, eying both inmates to see how they react. 

His gut twists with worry when Mikasa doesn't even bother to glare. 

Her gaze stays on the floor, and Levi decides it's safe to look at her. He looks at her collarbones that are no doubt more prominent than before, and notices with a hint of surprise that she hasn't bothered to put on her scarf. He wonders just how much she's eaten in the last day; if he were to guess, it'd be nothing, if the slight jutting of her bones is any indication. 

He wonders what she'll look like at the end of her punishment. 

Eren wakes twice that day, both times with a scream, and Levi entertains himself by listening to his subordinates' conversations. They're short and sweet, each word heavy with emotion, though their voices are no doubt the most flat they've ever been. 

Levi shuts his eyes. 

He wishes, with all his heart, that he was better at protecting his squad. Too many times has he almost brought them to their death; and though he doesn't know much of their lives as a whole, he knows without a doubt that Eren and Mikasa had a gruesome childhood. Armin probably did, too—they're all from Shiganshina, after all—but whether or not his subordinates have always suffered, they definitely are now. 

If only he could help them. 

He knows what it's like to lose people. He's been losing people since he was barely a child. He knows what it's like for everything to be perfect one second and for it to be complete Hell the next. But seeing these kids—these  _fifteen-year-olds—_ suffer so much is heartbreaking. 

And all Levi can do is watch. 

Levi's sitting when Armin and Hanji return. This time they're with Jean, too, and Levi can't help but be grateful that his squad gets along so well. He knows for a fact that Eren and Mikasa don't require more than one guard—they'd probably stay in their cells even if no one was watching—so when he sees the tight frown on Jean's face, he knows the kid is only there because he's worried. 

Hanji lets Armin into Eren's cell without a word, Levi getting the hint and handing Jean his shotgun. The only sounds are breathing, footsteps, and Jean's small mutter of thanks, and then Hanji's leading Levi out of the dungeon and into the sunlight. 

They walk in silence. Levi's not sure where they're going; he does, however, know that it's not the hotel. The area's unfamiliar, though the atmosphere itself is no different from the rest of Trost. Shops line the streets, worn from disuse, while people dressed in aged clothing parade the sidewalks. Occasionally, the two will come across a destroyed house, or a pile of rubble no one cared enough to clean. The citizens, however, seems to pay the mess no mind; the people seem happy, no matter how sorry the state of their home is, and Levi thinks that maybe their work has brought more good than he thought. 

He and Hanji continue walking for a few blocks, Levi hovering to her left behind her shoulder. Hanji teased him about it once—how he often decides to follow rather than lead—and Levi remembers glaring at her while she broke down in laughter. 

The less people you lead, the less people you can feel guilty for losing.

Levi follows as Hanji heads up to the door of a rugged-looking shop, worn yellow text painted on the windows above shelves of tea pots. When they step in, Levi's immediately hit by the smell of dust and tea leaves, the warm scent of burning wood mingling with the two. 

He wrinkles his nose, torn between disgust and calm at the smell, before his eye catches a tea pot. It's olive green, squarer than it is round, and Levi's never seen anything like it. Four matching tea cups sit stacked precariously beside it; he walks up and lightly turns the one at the top, and is surprised to see there's no handle. 

"Like it?" He hears a foreign voice ask behind him. He barely manages not to jump at the sound; instead, he blinks slowly before turning to face the man. 

"It's alright," he says, turning back around to peer into the cup. He's greeted by a dusty interior, and his face contorts in disgust. "Filthy, though." 

"Yea, sorry about that," the man replies with a hearty laugh. "If you're looking to buy something, I'm willing to give you a good discount." 

"Really?" Hanji's excited voice comes from across the room. 

Levi turns to look at the man, noting the apron and rolled up sleeves. The owner, Levi assumes. 

"I haven't ever seen a [tea set](https://st.hzcdn.com/simgs/6fe13fca060975d0_3-3852/asian-tea-sets.jpg) like this." 

The man smiles. "That's because no one's around to make them anymore." 

Levi furrows his brow, turning to look back at the shelf. "Why not?" 

"Because it was made by an Asian," he responds immediately, as if he were expecting the question. Levi guesses he probably was. "Long ago, there used to be multiple other types of—" 

"I know the story," Levi interrupts. 

"Oh." 

"Hanji," Levi says, turning away once again. "Do you think Mikasa would enjoy this?" 

Hanji raises an eyebrow, humming. "That depends. She might not have had a tea set like that." 

He glances back at the objects in question. "True." 

"Though she may appreciate it anyways," Hanji continues, undeterred. "I doubt she has any other reminders of her culture." 

Levi turns back to Hanji, searching her expression for uncertainty. When he doesn't find any, he sighs, turning back towards the merchant. 

"How much is it?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pffff, this is such a short chapter. It's exactly 999 (edit: nvm, it's 1068 words now :P) words :( I'm posting it anyways, lol. I had around 2000 words at first, but 99% of it was trash, so I rewrote it (and took out the second half... Oops). Eh, I really want to introduce the... *feelings* soon, but hey, I want this to be a slow burn, so maybe I'm not screwing this up already...? I don't know what I'm doing. Whatever. So yea, have a very mediocre filler chapter :3
> 
> Also, my tumblr is zamiraruth. I post really idiotic stuff most of the time, but I also post when I update my stories, so... Ya know :3
> 
> Oh, and another thing: thank you so much to everyone who has given feedback/left kudos! I really appreciate it <3 It means a lot. Seriously, seeing that I got a comment or a kudos makes me so happy :D
> 
> Finally, please let me know if you see any mistakes! I have a feeling there will be a lot of them. I'm really tired, lol. I don't trust the editing I've done.
> 
> Warning: Panic attack

Levi wakes to sweaty clothes and a full moon. 

At first, he doesn't bother moving. Instead, Levi wonders what he dreamt about—if it was about the titans or the underground—and if the thudding of his heart will ever slow to its usual rhythm. 

He takes deep breaths;  _in, out,_ Levi thinks, five seconds to inhale, eight to exhale. He tries to remember his squad is still alive instead of when the beast titan slipped out of his grasp. Levi tells himself the screams, the blood, the gore; none of it's here, he's in his hotel room, and the door is shut and locked tight. 

Levi breathes, but doesn't stop shaking. 

When he stands he grips his side, trying and failing to quell the churning of his stomach. He feels dirty—feels layers upon layers of evaporated titan blood atop his skin, his mother's dress a phantom whisper down his spine—and blows out the candle that smells less like lavender and more like rotting flesh. 

He needs a shower. 

Levi heads to his bag before peeling his clothes off, the night air cold on his sweat-soaked skin. He folds his shirt first— _lie,_ _section, cross, lift—_ before following with his pants, the cloth rough on his hands. He packs them up before he's heading into the bathroom and locking the door behind him. 

The shower is quick, his movements precise, and he's completely clean before he knows it. Levi lets himself sigh before he switches the water off, his mind slower yet as tense as it was before. 

So, instead of redressing immediately after like he usually would, he throws on an oversized sweater and some boxers. He's in the middle of pulling some tea out of his bag—the relaxing shit he saves for the really bad nights—when a knock rings through his room. 

Levi grumbles, pulls on some pants, and cracks open the door. The sight of Hanji doesn't make him any less annoyed; in fact, if anything, it makes him more so. Yet he opens it, mildly surprised to see Jean lingering a way behind her. 

Levi lets them in wordlessly before continuing with his tea. Jean offers to help, and—well, he's not Hanji, so Levi lets him. He still makes sure the measurements are right—Jean might be mildly better than the mess that's their commander, but he's not  _Levi—_ and Jean politely moves out of the way while he's doing so. 

"You guys want some, right?" Levi asks from where he stands at his dresser. "It's passion flower. And expensive as fuck, so don't say you want some if you're just going to waste it." 

Hanji chuckles, the sound light and mildly strained. "I'll have some." 

"No thank you, sir," Jean replies. 

Levi hums a response before pulling a second teacup out. Jean, Levi notices, seems comfortable around Hanji; not comfortable in a friendly way, per say, but definitely in a professional way. They've seated themselves side-by-side, each in an uncomfortable-looking chair of their own, leaving Levi with the padded one to rest on. 

Hanji starts speaking once he's seated. "We were just hoping you'd review this letter," she says, "in case there's anything you might notice." 

Levi furrows his brows. "Letter?" 

"Yes," she responds, "the one from Ymir." 

"Oh," Levi says. Though he doesn't know why they'd expect him to find anything, he nods, reaching out to accept it from Jean. 

When he's done looking through it he passes it back, shaking his head lightly. Hanji sighs, though both she and Jean seem unsurprised. 

"It just seems like a love letter to me," Levi comments. 

"Yea," Hanji mutters, "I'm beginning to think that's all it is." 

"I wasn't sure at first," Jean starts, "because I'd thought they were only friends. But I think I was just wrong." 

"Well," Levi says, "Her Highness may see something we haven't." 

Hanji nods. "I hope so." 

They're interrupted by the whistle of the tea kettle. Levi removes it from the fire, sets it on a tray, then brings it over to the coffee table in front of him. 

"It still needs to sit for a few minutes," he comments. 

"Alright," Hanji replies. She leans forward, resting her head in her hands, a maniacal glint in her eyes. "I didn't know you liked passion flower tea. Who would've known you were such a softy?" 

Levi scowls. "Shut up. I've served you this twice before." 

She sits back up, her face genuinely surprised. "Huh?" She asks. "When?" 

Levi just shakes his head. 

Hanji, undeterred, turns towards Jean. "Oh, by the way," she begins, "How are Eren and Mikasa doing?" 

"Ah..." Jean starts, his voice wavering. "Last I saw, Mikasa wasn't eating. I’m not sure about Eren, though." 

"And Armin?" Levi asks. 

Jean looks down. "He seems... fine. Just..." He pauses. "Overwhelmed, I guess." 

Hanji hums, watching as Levi pours himself a cup of tea. "That makes sense." 

"I think we're all a little overwhelmed," Levi comments, sliding a second cup to Hanji. "Has Eren shut up yet? He was screaming every two minutes while I was there." 

"Screaming?" Hanji asks. 

"Nightmares," Jean explains, turning towards Levi. "And he was quiet while I was there. Armin was talking to him the whole time." 

"Didn't want to deal with him yelling?" Levi asks with a raised eyebrow. 

Jean huffs a laugh. "Right," he says, "He's already annoying enough as it is." 

"Though," Hanji starts, "I'm worried about Mikasa not eating. It's not because of Eren, is it?" 

"Knowing her," Jean starts, looking at his lap, "it probably is." 

Levi looks into his teacup. "So," he says, "Armin has thirteen years, right? And Eren..." 

"Has eight," Hanji finishes. 

Levi doesn't think about how that makes his gut twist. 

He takes a sip of tea, exhaling. Eight years, huh? Of course, Mikasa's hurting. She just learned her family is going to die. Although... 

"They'll probably die before then," he comments.

Levi thinks of Mike, who had survived longer than him, only to go M.I.A. before the Battle of Utgard. He thinks of Nanaba, and how she'd made it more than five years, only to be torn to shreds a few hours after Mike probably was. He thinks of Erwin—fucking  _Erwin_ , how Levi thought he was invincible even though he  _so_ _clearly wasn't_, and how even he couldn't manage to—

"Yea," Hanji says, looking down. "They probably will." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tf when you've written a decent amount of your fanfic but it's pure smut and can't be posted until it's closer to the end
> 
> Lol, I need to make an outline

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is zamiraruth.


End file.
